Want a day of dad doing the jobs and mum resting? Then have yourself a bbq.
In the UK, where the weather is not all that reliable and the evenings go cold quite quick, we can, as a nation, become a bit barbie-barmy on a sunny day. Which goes a bit like this…
Man (it’s always man) suggests a bbq so that he can show off his outdoor catering skills (lucky us!) and mum can have a rest.
Now that he has made the Man decision mum will actually start doing the mountain of work to prepare.
(Whoa there tiger! Don’t get all hot around the collar boys. Standing outside with a can of your favourite beer in one hand, a large fork in the other and wearing a really ‘funny’ apron whilst getting smoke in your face is not all that a bbq involves – really.)
Mum’s just left with the fighting kids for the rush shopping job – chicken, sausages, maybe a steak, bread rolls, sauces, burgers, tablets for stomach ache and indigestion, drinks, napkins…
Hey Man don’t just stand there – you got work to do – go buy you some charcoal to make heap big fire.
Mum’s back – to part cook everything (unless you like your food black on the outside and food poisoning pink in the middle) and then you can put it on the bbq to be eaten by flies, burnt by flames and otherwise turned into what we call food…
It’s time for Man to do safety duty by standing next to the bbq for an hour or three, to make sure that the coals heat up properly and no-one gets burnt. Busy busy man. Phew.
Look at that, mum is in the kitchen running around like a headless chicken trying to find the garden plates, cut the salad, track down the mustard, turn the chicken, make that home-made bbq sauce that seemed like a good idea to do earlier but is now nothing more than a pain in the…
Hey, look out, Man is about to turn a burger over with the tongs. Wow. That was tricky.
Mum by now has tracked down everything, washed off the cob-webs, made the lemonade, soothed the child with the burnt hand (how did that happen??), put everything onto trays and carried it to the garden table in relays. Looking good mum.
Dad carefully places a black shriveled thing that was once known as a sausage onto a ready cut and buttered roll, drowns it in ketchup, and gives it to the toddler – who promptly feeds it to the dog whilst screaming ‘Yucky. I want proper food’
Mum goes in the kitchen and rustles up emergency sandwiches for the kids.
After all the ‘fun’ you can relax under the stars, listening to the rain pitter-patter on the umbrella / awning above you and be grateful that Man has not yet said…
‘That was fun. Much easier than cooking indoors. Must be nice for you to not have to do anything for a change, love.’
Hopefully you are lucky – all will be cooked, Man will be fairly sober, and no-one will be ill. Hopefully…
I’m now off to start putting things away. Oh look at that, the bbq is at the right temperature to cook on now. Well, isn’t that funny?!?!
Bye for now